The Collected Letters, Volume 3

I came down to Edinr, about six week ago partly, that I might consult you [about] the printing of this Wilhelm Meister; I found you absent, and got but a lame account of the matter from your representatives; to-day I have heard that you were
returned, and I address you again on the subject.

I am to be in Edinr about the last day of this month; after which I am to have two months' leave of absence for the purpose of accomplishing my engagement with you. That done I go to London and Cornwall and France and the Lord knows
whither. Thus you see how it stands: On the very first day of February I shall be ready to begin (having already near a volume
before hand); and the whole undertaking must be finished before the first of April. I hope it will be easily in your power to manage all this. The arrangements about paper and type and so forth I leave entirely
in your own hands; believing that they will be well attended to, and that Goethe in his English coat may not disgrace the
furnishers.

As I went farther into the work I conceived better hopes of its success. Blackwood in a criticism of some work two months
ago said: “We are glad to see Messrs Oliver and Boyd announce a forthcoming translation of Meister. This is beginning at the right place”—or words to that effect, the reading of which (much as I despise Blackwood) rather
did me good.1 We shall furnish Goethe with a preface; put him into standard English;—in clear sharp types and good paper; and then send him forth to seek his fortune, fearlessly as others
do.

I shall be glad to hear from you on this subject, if you have any alteration to propose. If I hear nothing, I shall consider
it as settled in this manner.

1. Carlyle probably refers to a passage in a review of Popular Tales of Northern Nations (London, 1823) in Blackwood's Magazine for Sept. 1823, which reads: “We are happy to see Messrs Oliver and Boyd announce a forthcoming version of Goëthe's Wilhelm Meister; this
is the true plan. Don't give us any of the minors until the really great authors are exhausted. A good translation of Goëthe's
‘Life of Himself’ would be an excellent speculation. To say nothing of the great poet himself, the light it affords of common
German life of all kinds would render that book a most acceptable present to the English public.”